What Remains
by Rumaan
Summary: Recipient of an impromptu prophecy, Lucius struggles to decipher it until it's too late.


**Author's Note: This was written for the Hawthorn and Vine Reverse Challenge. If you go over to there you can see the manip submission that I wrote this for. This isn't a very shippy fic - so apologies for that but I did enjoy getting into Lucius' head. Thanks to the H&V mods for organising this fest and to swirlsofblack for betaing this.**

**Disclaimer: I'm still not JK Rowling and make no profit from writing this.**

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**What Remains**

_September 1982_

Knockturn Alley had yet to recover from the Dark Lord's demise; many shops were boarded up and the few people who were about scurried to and fro quickly and quietly, as if their presence would not be noted if they made no noise.

Lucius Malfoy was never one to hurry and he exited Borgin and Burkes as if he had all the time in the world, with his head held high, his cloak open slightly to reveal the sumptuous suit of clothes he wore underneath and his cane clacking elegantly on the cobbled stones as he side-stepped some rotting cabbage leaves.

"Come, Dobby!" he ordered imperiously, as he set off for the rather more salubrious surroundings of Diagon Alley.

He hadn't gone very far when a claw-like hand reached out and grabbed him. He raised his cane, ready to strike, sure it was a less fortunate supporter of the Dark Lord – one without the connections or money to bribe the Ministry – but instead he found himself staring into the myopic gaze of a Hogwarts teacher he had seen once at a School Governors meeting.

"_The pure shall become tainted, the Dragon the last. Beware the Earthly witch. She shall be your doom and your saviour." _

He stared in shock, his cane dropping from his upraised hand. She started to splutter and cough, her big bat-like eyes blinking rapidly behind her absurd glasses before she realised that she was clutching at his arm. She snatched her hand away, squawking something or other at him as she tried to smooth the now rumpled material down.

Slapping her hands away, he snapped, "Get away from me, woman!"

Lucius turned abruptly, knocking the house-elf that cowered behind him to the ground. "Pick up my cane!" he ordered to the now grovelling Dobby, waiting impatiently with his hand outstretched.

The stream of apologetic muttered words continued from behind him, but he was not going to exchange words with the ridiculous woman. Instead, he grabbed his cane from the house-elf and marched back down Knockturn Alley, determined to put the nonsense spouted by the silly witch out of his mind.

_July 1997_

Lucius stared at the woman revolving slowly in the air over his dining room table and tried to push the sick feeling away. It remained, however, a leaden ball at the bottom of his stomach. He pushed his shaking hands against his thighs, desperate to appear more at ease than he was. Who would have thought things could have gone so wrong? Only three years before, he had been a respected member of society – a feared man – with influence at the highest levels. Now, he was a shell, hanging onto his sanity only through the presence of his wife, whose hand rested on top of his left one, her fingers stroking his skin, trying to help him stop the trembling.

The Dark Lord was saying something, the other Death Eaters hooting and hollering, but Lucius could hear nothing but a ringing in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the noise away. The movement grabbed Trelawney's attention and her eyes locked on his, pleading with him to do something. He lowered his gaze to the table and he noticed his son's hands twisted together, the knuckles white as he gripped his wand tightly.

Draco, who was scared out of his mind. Had been since he had returned last month, shaking and retching, Snape holding him up.

His son's involvement in this circus was Lucius' biggest regret. Oh, once upon a time, he would have been proud to see the Dark Mark adorn Draco's skin – seen it as an honour, in fact. But those thoughts belonged to a different time. Now, he was focused on trying to get his family out of this mess alive.

The crowing from the Dark Lord pulled him from his thoughts. "Earthly witches and dragons? What is this nonsense?" his clear high voice asked scornfully.

Fear causing his heart to hammer against his chest, Lucius looked around bewildered and scared. How had the Dark Lord heard that prophecy? He had kept it close to his chest, not even sharing it with Narcissa. If the Dark Lord thought Lucius had hidden a prophecy from him then his retribution would be brutal and swift. The Dark Lord could never abide not knowing everything.

Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Narcissa leaned into him and murmured in his ear, "The Seer just gave a prophecy, I think. She mentioned dragons and Earthly witches."

Nodding his head in thanks, Lucius saw the familiar sight of Trelawney's confused face. She did not remember her prophecies, as he had found out after his run-in with her at Knockturn Alley. He had tried to forget the words she had said to him, but hadn't been able and ended up researching all he could about prophecies. His knowledge in this area had been the reason the Dark Lord had chosen him for the mission to retrieve the prophecy over a year ago, with the terrible outcome for Lucius and his family.

Lucius watched with detachment as the Dark Lord questioned the wretched woman over and over again, becoming agitated at her confused and muddled answers. He still had not gotten over losing the prophecy regarding the pesky Potter boy and not getting a straight answer regarding this would be driving him mad.

The flash of green light startled him, and he was only just able to hold down his dinner as Nagini devoured the dead witch's body.

_The Earthly witch_. Wondering what this meant had haunted him since he had first heard the prophecy.

_March 1998_

The jubilation Lucius had been feeling as he realised just who the Snatchers had brought into his home had disappeared. All thoughts of regaining his position with the Dark Lord and the respect he deserved had evaporated with the arrival of Bellatrix. His sister-in-law had taken charge of the situation and refused to accord him the respect he deserved as the lord of Malfoy Manor.

Now he had to watch as she tortured the Mudblood girl, whose screams echoed around the room, making Draco twitch with each one. Lucius' eyes flicked to his wife, who was standing slightly behind their son, her hand resting discretely on his back, as if to give him comfort. Not that long ago, Lucius would have been disgusted with his son's reactions, seen them as nothing but the behaviour of a craven, but having brought this fate down on his family, Lucius had experienced true fear himself. Once, he would have thought Draco's inability to follow through came from Narcissa's side, but he had come to realise that she was the truly strong one. The one who was currently keeping the family together, who was thinking quickly and not just reacting to events, like he was.

Another scream rang out and Lucius briefly glanced at the girl writhing on his drawing room floor. He wished Bellatrix would end this either way. If she kept this up then the girl would be of no use to anyone. He looked once more at the sword, contemplating why it had driven Bella to such nervous wrath. There was something important about the relic, why it's presence in the hands of Potter and his friends was so significant, and he was surprised to find that he no longer cared. He just wanted out of this whole mess. He knew the Dark Lord's anger would fall on him if anything were to go wrong – not Bella – and torturing the Mudblood to insanity was bound to irritate the Dark Lord if he wanted information out of her.

Another wince from Draco drew his attention and Lucius found he could not look at his son's pale, drawn face, and his eyes fell on the painting behind him, which rested above the mantelpiece and depicted the meeting of Orestes and Hermione. Greek mythology was a passion of his wife's and her favourite myths all revolved around Helen of Troy. She loved the brutal romanticism of it all and whilst they had been at Hogwarts she had more than identified with Helen, affecting all kinds of silly mannerisms and melodramatic behaviour. Once they had been married she had filled the Manor with paintings and statues of various scenes from around those myths, including the one she had managed to talk him into on their honeymoon that depicted them as the star-crossed lovers – Helen and Paris. Needless to say, that resided in their bedroom where no one else could see it.

For some reason the painting drew him in. His eyes stared at Hermione, as if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Another loud screech pierced his brain and suddenly bits of the prophecy fell into place.

_Beware the Earthly witch. _

He finally understood what this meant and his eyes tracked over to the young girl bleeding on his Aubusson rug in horror. The Mudblood's name was Hermione, the female form of Hermes, meaning messenger or earthly.

Lucius swung his head around to face his son once more, confusion and pain written all over his face as he stared in fascination at the girl.

_The Dragon the last._

How had never thought that the Dragon could refer to his son, Draco? He was the last what?

_The pure shall become tainted_.

That could only mean one thing for a Malfoy: their pure-blood line coming to an end. But how would that even be possible? Draco had no love for the Mudblood Granger. He had always returned from Hogwarts complaining about how the school would be better without the likes of her.

Before he could think any more on this, the door burst open and the Weasley boy flew in, face frantic, tears streaming down his face, shouting. Bellatrix paused for a moment and suddenly Potter was there, casting a spell and a jet of red light was shooting towards Lucius, throwing him backwards.

_She shall be your doom._

Lucius let out a brief, bitter laugh and then there was nothing.

_May 1998_

There was absolute carnage in the Great Hall and Lucius struggled to recognise the place he had spent much of his teenage years in. The house tables were in position, people sitting haphazardly on the benches that ran alongside them, some laughing, some crying, and some just silently staring into space. Bodies of the fallen were placed reverently around the edge of the hall, grieving relatives and friends standing vigil over them. The body of the Dark Lord and those of his supporters who had died in the Great Hall had been removed to a side chamber, their presence not allowed to contaminate the space of those who died to defeat them.

Lucius frantically scanned the hall, looking for his son. He had no idea if the boy still lived or not. Neither he nor Narcissa had seen or heard from him since that fateful night at Malfoy Manor when he had fled with Potter and Dobby.

Instead of being angry with Draco for running, Lucius had been relieved that his son had not been there for the fallout of the Dark Lord's anger, which had been severe – he and Narcissa had been punished for days.

Now they were desperate for a glimpse of their son, Narcissa having gleaned the information that he was alive from Potter in the Forbidden Forest. An agitated scrabbling at his arm had him looking at his wife, who was staring across the Hall, her spare shaking hand covering her mouth. He followed her gaze and the relief that spread through him was immense. For there, standing in the doorway was their son.

"Draco," Narcissa whispered before she let go of Lucius to run across the room.

Taking a moment to let his son's existence sink in, Lucius held back. He didn't look like the boy who he had last seen cowering and anxious in his drawing room. The custom black robes were conspicuous by their absence and he was wearing clothes more suited for a Muggle. Lucius then noticed the girl standing next to Draco, her wild hair unmistakable. They both looked battered and bruised, blood trickling down Draco's hairline and Granger's lip split open. There was a weary sadness on both their faces but as his eyes tracked down, he noticed they were holding hands, their fingers intimately intertwined.

Lucius finally realised the last the part of the prophecy.

_And your saviour._

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**AN: The change from Charity Burbage to Sybill Trelawney was an intentional canon change.**


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